


hunger hurts (starving works)

by SoloChaos



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Eating Disorders, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 06:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2219421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoloChaos/pseuds/SoloChaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunger hurts, and I want him so bad,<br/>Oh, it kills,<br/>'Cause I know I'm a mess<br/>He don't wanna clean up.<br/>I gotta fold 'cause these hands are<br/>Too shaky to hold.<br/>Hunger hurts, but starving works<br/>When it costs too much to love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hunger hurts (starving works)

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE CHECK THE TAGS FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS. PLEASE.  
> I triggered myself writing this so please please make sure you're up for reading this.

He fumbles with the lock on the bathroom door. As soon as it's secured shut, he's dropping to his knees and forcing two fingers down his throat.

The food comes up first, the taco and the chips and the soda. He closes his eyes and gags as the food is followed by bile. It's bitter, and it burns his mouth and nose as it forces its way out of his stomach. He used to cry at the pain, but his tear ducts have long since dried up.

He feels shaky when he's done, his hands clammy and legs unsure. But he feels better. He feels clean.

He flushes the toilet and washes the vomit off his fingers before opening a package of mints.

There's a soft knock on the door.

"You okay in there?" he hears someone call.

"Yeah," Josh says, popping a few mints into his mouth. "I'm fine."

 

 

It's just a diet.

That's all it is.

It's not dangerous, not yet. Josh is careful. He's not losing too much weight (or any).

He's being realistic. He's not in any danger. He certainly won't be affected if he throws up a meal every now and then.

He works out, too. He's not losing muscle. He's strong. And he'll be healthier after this. He's not _obsessed_ with his appearance, no. He's not _obsessed_ with his reflection, with the numbers on the scale.

He's not obsessed.

He's fine.

 

 

Tyler is the most gorgeous man Josh has ever met.

(And he knows Tyler thinks the same of him but he's wrong, so wrong.)

Josh can't believe that they're dating, still dating, no matter how... how _gross_ Josh knows he's been. Josh can't believe he's managed to be able to call Tyler his boyfriend all this time.

And he knows he owes it to Tyler, at least, to maybe try to be a little bit less... gross. A little bit less disgusting.

A little bit prettier.

 

 

"Wait," Josh says as he and Tyler are marched down a hall and into another room. "Where are we going? What are we doing?"

Mark gives him an odd look. "Interview, remember?"

Josh pauses. "Right now?"

"Yes, now," Mark says, prodding him in the shoulder to get him to move again. "Come on, hurry up."

Josh starts to walk again. "Wait, can I go use the bathroom?"

"We were supposed to be there like-" Mark checks his phone, "five minutes ago, dude. You have to hold it."

"But-" But Josh is being pushed onto a couch in a room where there are people with cameras and earpieces buzzing around. Tyler's already sitting, and Josh flops down next to him. He winces when he feels his lunch turn somersaults in his stomach.

"You okay?" Tyler asks, linking their fingers together.

Josh nods. "I'm fine," he says, squeezing Tyler's hand.

Tyler gives him a suspicious look, but his attention is quickly diverted when the interviewer sits down on a chair next to them.

Tyler, who seems to have sensed that something's wrong, hasn't let go of Josh's hand. The interviewer stares at their intertwined fingers a little pointedly, but doesn't ask as she introduces them.

Josh grits his teeth and smiles at the camera and tries to ignore the insistent grumbles of the food settling inside his stomach.

 

 

"Why'd you stop taking your shirt off?" Tyler asks after a show one day.

Josh shrugs. "Don't feel like it," he says as vaguely as possible.

Tyler furrows his eyebrows. "Don't feel like it? What do you-"

"Drop it," Josh says, a little more harshly than he had intended.

Tyler's mouth snaps shut.

"Crap, I- I'm sorry, Tyler," Josh says softly. "I'm- I'm gonna be in the greenroom, okay?"

Tyler nods wordlessly, and Josh turns around, wanting to punch something. Or cry.

 

 

 _Too much, too much, too much,_ he thinks to himself as the food in his stomach churns. _Fucking pig._

His hands are shaking as he closes the door. It takes several tries to lock it, and he's so fucking desperate to just get this over with that he considers not even bothering.

But he finally manages to lock the door, and by then he's so disgusted with himself that he doesn't even need to stick a finger down his throat.

It takes a moment to catch his breath once he's done. He collapses on his side, just feeling so fucking thankful that everything's out of him.

His stomach lurches again, and suddenly he's throwing up for the second time, vomiting nothing but bile. It burns, but it satisfies him. Nothing but bile means that there isn't any food left inside him, no toxins in his stomach, nothing dirty running through his veins.

He chokes until his stomach stops rolling, and he collapses onto the tile again. There's some laughter that rips it's way out of his throat, and he giggles as he gags on the taste of the bile in his mouth.

Josh is a mess, he knows that, but it's nothing new.

 

 

Tyler laughs, stretching back so his shirt rides up, his flat, tanned stomach showing. Josh tries to look away, but he can't, because he's _so fucking jealous._

 _STOP IT!_ he wants to scream. _STOP MAKING ME FEEL SO FUCKING FAT!_

Tyler continues to just prattle on about... something, and Josh is left fixated on his skinny, pretty body.

Josh just wants to tear his own skin off, tear himself apart until he's nothing but bones. Until he can breathe again. Until he's skinny, until he's fucking _pretty._

 

 

"Come on, dude," Tyler says, tossing him a foil-wrapped burrito. "You haven't eaten all day."

"I'm fine, really," Josh says, catching the burrito easily.

"We have a show tonight," Tyler reminds him. "Keep your strength up, come on."

Josh flashes him a tired grin before taking the wrapper off. His stomach lurches at the sight of pure calories under grease.

"You all right?" Tyler asks, looking concerned. "You're looking a little pale."

"Hmm? Oh, yeah," Josh says, swallowing hard before raising the burrito to his lips.

"Eat," Tyler says, clapping him on the back. "You'll feel better."

Josh chuckles dryly to himself as he takes a bite.

 

 

Josh knows Tyler can feel him crying, tears wet on both of their cheeks and Josh's body shaking, and Tyler looks absolutely terrified.

"Josh-" Tyler says, trying to pull back, but Josh holds him in place.

"Stop," Josh says softly, voice cracking a little. He presses his lips to Tyler's, movements almost desperate.

"Josh, you're crying," Tyler says insistently. He tries to pull back to see Josh, but Josh holds him in place.

"I'm fine," Josh says, voice still shaking.

"Josh..."

"I'm _fine,_ Tyler," Josh says, voice steadier this time. "I'm fine."

 

 

Josh knows he's in trouble before they even begin the show. He's shaky, his arms limp and hands sweaty. He knows he might not finish this show. But he has to try. Tyler needs him.

They're barely into their third song before Josh can feel everything start to go hazy.

The venue is starting to spin before his eyes. He tries to blame it on all the lights they have flashing, but no, his vision is starting to blur.

Josh grits his teeth and tries to concentrate on the drums in front of him, but everything is starting to fade.

He manages to hit the cymbal one more time before everything goes black.

 

 

"You asshole," Tyler growls at him.

Josh had been awake for barely twenty minutes when his boyfriend had stalked in, looking furious.

"You _asshole,"_ Tyler hisses. "You- complete- ass!" he shouts, smacking the bed with each word.

"I'm sorry," Josh whispers.

"You'd better be sorry!" Tyler snaps. "How _could_ you?! How could you _do_ this to yourself?!"

"I- I don't know, I- I'm sorry-"

"You bastard!" Tyler shrieks, and Josh has never seen him look so furious before. "You _bastard!_ How _could_ you?! How could you _do_ this to yourself?! To _me?!"_

"I- I'm s-sorry, Tyler," Josh stutters out.

"You selfish _asshole!"_ Tyler screams. "How _dare_ you?! What about _me?!"_

Tyler continues to shout himself hoarse at Josh, words blending together until Josh can't make out any of the words, only the message.

Fury.

_Hate._

Josh closes his eyes and murmurs useless apologies while the man he loves shouts loathing at him.

 

 

Tyler finally storms out, and Josh watches numbly as he slams the door shut behind him. The room is silent, albeit the heart monitor’s steady beeping.

Josh's hands are shaking.

He spots a pair of scissors next to his bed, and he vaguely recalls Tyler's eyes, Tyler's lost and hurt and _furious_ eyes, and he leans over, grabs the scissors, and looks at his pale, clean wrist.

 _He doesn't want me,_ Josh tells himself. He feels a tear run down his cheek, but he wipes it away viciously. _Don't fucking cry._

He opens the scissors, takes a deep breath, and slits his wrists with precision that's startling when he sees how badly his hands are shaking.

He sighs, closing his eyes, breathing and bleeding.

 

 

Josh wakes up to someone's voice.

He wakes up to Tyler singing.

He can't quite make out the words, because it feels like someone stuffed cotton into his ears, but he knows Tyler's singing, and he can feel someone's hand in his.

Josh's eyes start to flutter open, and the singing stops. He focuses on the fingers intertwined in his, and opens his eyes to see Tyler sitting on the chair next to his bed, hand gripping Josh's tightly.

"Hi," Tyler says softly. Josh notes that his eyes are red-rimmed and there's a large bruise on his jaw.

"...hi," Josh says. "Um. What happened to your face?"

Tyler's hand flies up to his jaw. "Oh, um," he says. "Don't worry about that."

Josh frowns, attempting to sit up. “No, really, what happened?”

“Lie down, lie down,” Tyler says, leaning in and gently pushing Josh back down. Josh goes along with it, because he’s starting to feel a little dizzy.

“What happened to your face?” Josh asks again, or tries to, because he’s suddenly drifting back off to sleep.

 

 

Josh wakes up once again with someone’s hand in his. It’s his mother’s this time, though.

"Josh?" she whispers as he slowly opens his eyes.

"Mom?" he murmurs back.

"Oh, Josh," she says softly, squeezing his hand. "How, um, how are you feeling?"

"Fine," Josh starts to say, but stops when he realizes how stupid that must sound because he just caught sight of the bandages around his wrists. "Where, um, where's Tyler?"

"They all went to the cafeteria when I got here," his mom tells him. "Do you want me to text-"

"No," Josh says a little too quickly. "I- I mean, no. Can you, um, just stay? For a bit?"

"Of course," she murmurs, squeezing his hand.

 

 

"Can I just ask- why?" Tyler asks finally.

They're lying on Josh's hospital bed together, Josh's head resting on Tyler's chest. It's a little awkward because of Josh's IV, and also the fact that Josh has always been the one holding Tyler. But they're managing.

Josh sighs, pressing his face to Tyler's chest a little harder. "Because I'm..." he begins, words muffled, "gross."

"What?" Tyler asks, sounding genuinely confused. "I don't-"

"I'm disgusting," Josh says softly.

"N-no," Tyler says, shaking his head. "No, no. You're not. You're _not."_

"I am," Josh whispers. "I'm just... gross, okay?"

"No, no," Tyler says vehemently. "Josh- Josh, look at me." Josh crooks his neck so he can face Tyler. "You're beautiful," he whispers. "No matter how much you weigh, no matter how you look, you'll always be beautiful. Okay?"

Josh shakes his head, looking away. "Stop trying to make me feel better," he whispers.

"I'm _not,"_ Tyler insists. He pauses. "Well, I am, but I'm also telling the truth." Josh snorts. "I _am!"_

"I'm disgusting, Tyler," Josh says quietly.

Tyler shakes his head violently. "No, no, you're not, you're not, _believe_ me."

Josh sighs, burying his head back into Tyler's chest. He doesn't believe him.

 

 

 

 

"What'd you say you want for dinner?" Tyler asks Josh as he unlocks his phone.

"Hmm," Josh says, setting his stick down. "Pizza?"

"We had pizza last night!"

"Are you saying one can have too much pizza?"

"No, no, of course not," Tyler says quickly.

"Good," Josh says with a nod and a cymbal crash. 

Later, as they eat their pizza (from plates because they're not _complete_ heathens), Josh asks, "I never did find out how you got that bruise on your jaw."

"Oh, um," Tyler says, setting his slice of pizza down. "I was punched."

"What?" Josh drops his slice back into his plate. "By who?!"

"Calm down, J," Tyler says, holding a hand up. 

"I'm not gonna calm down! Someone _hit_ you! I'm gonna-"

"Your brother," Tyler interrupts, and Josh falls silent. "Your brother punched me."

_"...what?"_

"He heard me," Tyler says softly. "Yelling at you." He sighs. "I deserved it, Josh."

Josh shakes his head. "No, no, you didn't."

"I did," Tyler says gently. "I really did."

Josh doesn't believe that, but Tyler's set his jaw and Josh knows Tyler won't be convinced otherwise. 

"I love you," he says instead. 

"I love you too," Tyler says with a small smile, and Josh leans in and gives him a kiss that tastes like pizza. 

He doesn't mind. 

**Author's Note:**

> Based off Paper Bag by Fiona Apple.


End file.
